


You Make Me Human

by ScarletteLyn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU ish, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:55:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteLyn/pseuds/ScarletteLyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock have had their fair share of arguments and even a few fights but nothing could truly separate them. Well, that's what Sherlock thought until an accident gave him a wake up call, along with a few extra things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Accident

**Author's Note:**

> John's POV

                We sat around. I, writing about our latest case and Sherlock was staring intently into the microscope that never seemed to leave our kitchen table. I’d found a tongue in the freezer last night so he was probably inspecting every inch of that. I wasn’t even going to ask if it was human or not. A chair screeched in the kitchen and he read over my shoulder.

“Really? Death by bauble?” Sherlock scoffed.

“Well that is how he died,” I barely turned my head, not even looking at him. “Don’t you have a tongue to prod?”

“No, I’ve collected all I can from it,” He said simply. “It’s starting to rot.”

“Yes, I can smell it,” I replied and continued typing up how the case had gone. My tone was a tad condescending but it didn’t matter, nothing escaped the sociopath I lived with. He knew everything, well everything important anyways.  He could tell when I’d gotten back from a woman’s house just by how I took a single step. It was truly incredible, and also slightly annoying at times.

“I’m getting bored John,” Sherlock whined and laid down on our couch.

“Molly would be thrilled if you went and harassed her at the hospital, I’m sure,” I mumbled, finishing up on my blog.

“No, I don’t have any business there,” he sighed. “I’m hungry, we should go out to dinner.”

“Excuse me?” my head snapped up.

“Well, are you coming?” He was already half into his jacket.

“I can’t exactly argue with you,” I said to myself and got up to get dressed. He was already pulling on his ridiculous blue scarf. We ended up at a diner where the people owed Sherlock but then again, everyone seemed to owe Sherlock somehow. I ended up getting fish and chips and Sherlock got himself a salad.

“What are you now? A teenage girl watching her weight?” I teased.

“I can’t eat whatever I want you know,” He countered. “I actually care if I get fat or not.”

“Oh just because I’m not as fit as when I joined the war,” I scoffed. “The women don’t seem to care.”

“But you’ve lost interest in women lately,” Sherlock said offhandedly. I was shocked that he’d seen that, I’d tried to keep up my usual antics so he wouldn’t suspect anything.

“I’ve been spending too much time with you,” I replied. “No women are smart enough.”

“No one’s as smart as me,” he grinned childishly. “I’m the only highly functioning sociopath in all of England.”

“That doesn’t mean some people aren’t smarter than you,” I poked him with my foot.

“No but that doesn’t mean that people are smarter than me,” He replied and poked me back.

                We spent our dinner pleasantly teasing each other, poking each other’s shins and stealing each other’s food just to bother the other one. We took a cab back and soon Sherlock was bored again. He ended up pulling out his violin and I would never tell him, but I loved to watch him play. He was so focused and precise, it was beautiful if I dared to call him that. He was right at dinner, I realised. I had indeed lost interest in women because the only person I was attracted to now was the one coaxing Bach out of strings in front of me with all the skill of the original composer.

“You’re staring,” Sherlock said without turning around.

“Oh, sorry,” I apologized and sat up. “Do you want some tea? I think I’ll go make some for myself.”

“Tea would be lovely, thanks,” He said and resumed playing with a new tune this time. Mrs. Hudson came up while I was in the kitchen.

“Isn’t that such a lovely song?” She asked me.

“Of course,” I smiled lightly. “I wonder what he’s thinking about?”

“Pardon dear?” Mrs. Hudson asked.

“Oh, he always plays the violin when he’s thinking,” I said offhandedly.

“Such a nice way to do it then,” the elderly woman smiled and left me alone to wait for the water to boil.

                I fixed two cups of tea. I’d known Sherlock long enough to know exactly how he took his tea. His cup was the first I poured and after I did my own. I grabbed some biscuits and put them on a plate before taking everything out to the living room. He finished his piece before turning to me and smiling.

“Thank you John,” He took his cup and sipped it while slumping into the closest armchair.

“So what were you pondering?” I asked and it took him by surprise.

“Pardon?” He was trying not to choke.

“You only play the violin to help you think,” I pointed out and Sherlock’s eyes were sizing me up.

“Can’t I just play because I’m bored?” he said.

“Well I suppose,” I smirked. “But we both know you’d rather shoot the wall than play the violin while you’re bored.”

“Friends really do become dangerous foes,” He laughed to himself.

“Would you just tell me?” I asked again.

“Hmmm, no,” Sherlock said and put down the instrument. “I’ll tell you when I’m certain.”

“You’re so difficult,” I sighed and finished my tea. “I’m going up to bed, try not to play to loudly. Goodnight Sherlock.”

“Goodnight John,” Sherlock said and sipped his tea.

                I laid in bed after washing up and thought. I thought mostly about Sherlock, as I tended to most nights nowadays. Thinking about his marble skin and razor like cheekbones were my favorite way to drift to sleep. Tonight I was lulled to sleep by the sounds of his violin drifting through the walls, even though I wished he would be playing specifically for me. I wondered if he could sing, before realising I didn’t care. Even if he couldn’t, I’d want him to sing me to sleep because his voice was so enchanting. Nothing after that was clear to me because I was already half asleep but I could’ve sworn I’d seen someone peeking into my room.

                The next morning, I woke to the sounds of what I assumed to be a CD. It sounded familiar and got louder as I walked down into the living room where I discovered that Sherlock had pulled out the old record player. The sociopath himself was laying on our couch, throwing the large kitchen knives at the yellow happy face he’d sprayed onto the wall.

“Really Sherlock?” I sighed. “You’ll dull our good knives that way.”

“Sorry, I got bored waiting for you to wake up,” He said in monotone, hurling another utensil at the face. I plucked the silverware out of the wall and brought it to the kitchen despite his whining.  “There’s breakfast in the pan on the stove.”

“You cooked?!” I asked surprised and ran over to see. It was less of a disaster than usual, for no matter how clever the taller man was, he was a wreck at simple other things.

“Yes, it shouldn’t be that shocking,” He replied as his phone rang. I figured it would be the call that would drag us out all day so I tried to shovel as much food into my mouth as I could before Sherlock was reaching for his coat. As he was opening his mouth, I interrupted him.

“I know, I know,” I got up. “An interesting case, let’s go.”

“I’ve been rubbing off on you I see,” Sherlock grinned as I grabbed my coat and we left.

                Sherlock blew through the case as usual while managing to piss off Anderson and Donovan a little bit more than usual. He must’ve been in a fantastic mood to have accomplished so much. We ended up looking for the guy all afternoon and Sherlock and I went off on our own once the sun started setting.

“STOP. POLICE.” Sherlock demanded towards a guy in an alleyway. I figured it must’ve been him but Sherlock didn’t seem to see the gun he was pulling out.

“NO!” I shouted and made it in front of Sherlock just in time to get shot in the middle of the chest.


	2. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlocks' POV

                A week earlier, I would’ve let Donovan and Lestrade take care of John and go after the man but I let them rush past me after him instead as I knelt down beside John. Anderson was behind me, saying things I wasn’t paying attention to. I shouted at him to call an ambulance and I picked John off the ground. He was still alive but bleeding more than I thought someone could.

“No, John, no!” I said angrily and pressed my hands to his wound, trying to slow the bleeding. The ambulance got there soon after and I was ripped away from my only friend. Before they did, I whispered to him but too soon, Lestrade was holding me by my arms and calling for a police car to take me to the hospital as well.

                The ride with Lestrade was silent. Well, probably not. There were sirens from atop the car, Lestrade was on the phone but I wasn’t hearing any of it. All my thoughts were on John and the gunshot was ringing through my head like an endless loop. _I really love him. That’s it then. I’ve figured it out._ And I brought my feet up onto the seat, hugged my knees to my chest and cried. I didn’t see while we were walking into the hospital. Lestrade led me to the waiting room and left me alone. Well, I was alone until the only other person I would be willing to see at the moment showed up and snapped me out of my grief.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft waved a hand in front of my face. “Sherlock Holmes, you look at me right now.”

“You’re not Mummy,” I sniffed and he sat beside me.

“Come here,” Mycroft said and pulled me into a hug. Just like that, we were children again.

                Mycroft stayed with me in the waiting room for hours. Lestrade and Molly were there too. Even Donovan and Anderson made brief appearances but both became uncomfortable from seeing me as I was. A nurse came out and called John’s name.

“Yes,” I stood up and the woman looked me over. She was clearly trying to decide what relation I had to him and came to her own conclusions.

“He’s going to be fine,” She said and I felt my knees buckle. Mycroft and Lestrade managed to keep me upright. “However, you can’t go see him right now. Visiting hours are closed unless your family.”

“Please, he’s as close to family as John has,” Lestrade said and showed his badge covertly under his coat.

“Alright, I supposed I can let him stay the night,” The nurse sighed just before another nurse came up frantically. They talked for a second before the first nurse turned to me. “You don’t happen to be Sherlock do you?”

“Yes,” I stammered slightly.

“Well come on then, he’s demanding to see you,” She led me down the hall. I felt numb. He’d been _asking_ for me? She let me into the room on my own and I shuffled over to a frantic looking John Watson.

“Sherlock!” He focused on me before calming down and frowning. “You look terrible.”

“I feel terrible,” I slumped into the chair beside his bed just as another nurse came in to sedate him.

“No, I’ve only just gotten to see him,” John protested but it was already done.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” I reassured him. “Lestrade pulled some strings.”

“But I wanted to tell you,” John was already getting sleepy, I could tell.

“Tell me in the morning, you need to sleep,” I patted his hand gently.

“I… I heard… what you… said,” he drifted off.

“Shhhh, we can talk in the morning,” I said and he was out. The doctor came in just after.

“Sherlock Holmes is it?” he asked. I nodded. “Well your friend here had the bullet lodged in his chest but we managed to get it out. I was told you put pressure on the wound and without that he probably would’ve died. He’ll be fine to go home in a few days, you shouldn’t worry about him anymore.”

“Thank you doctor,” I replied absently and he left me.

I pulled my feet up onto the chair and stared at the now fast asleep John beside me. He looked very peaceful, but vacant. He wasn’t dreaming, he wasn’t full of life like I preferred him. I took his hand in mine and smiled when his fingers wrapped around mine. Just like that, I fell asleep. I woke at about six the next morning, Lestrade was knocking on the door. I managed to let John’s hand go with one final squeeze before the police officer walked in.

“We caught the bastard,” Lestrade offered me a paper cup full of tea.

“Good,” I nodded. “Make sure to prosecute him to the highest extent.”

“I’ve never seen you this mad,” the other man laughed and I just looked up at him. It was the weakest of glares but I didn’t really mean it.  “Oh.”

“Indeed,” I said simply.

“You,” Lestrade cleared his throat. “You really care about John. Some might even say you love him.”

“And what if I do?” I questioned and John started to stir.

“We can finish this later, why don’t you tell him first,” Lestrade said and backed out of the room. He’d be eavesdropping but he’d keep everyone else out for the moment.

“Sherlock?” John asked before even opening his eyes.

“I’m right here,” I told him and drank the tea in my hands. I called the nurse to give him some more medication because he was in a lot of pain. Twenty minutes later, he was high from the painkillers.

“Did you sleep in that chair?” He asked.

“Yes, I told you I’d be here when you woke up,” I replied. “I didn’t know when that would be.”

“You’re absurd,” John laughed a little and took my hand in his.

“Do you remember when you asked me what I was thinking about while I was playing the violin the other day?” I asked him.

“Yes, do you finally have an answer because it’s been driving me crazy,” John was looking at me expectantly.

“I’ll tell you what,” I started and leaned my elbows on my knees. “I’ll tell you what I was really thinking if you answer one of my questions first.”

“Okay,” he looked suspicious of me.

“Why did you ask for me when you woke?”

“Oh,” John looked surprised. “I wanted to see if you were in the waiting room or not.”

“Really? That’s it?” I asked.

“I didn’t know if you’d care enough to wait in such a boring place for so long,” he admitted.

“Do you want to know what I was thinking about now?”

“Yes!”

“I was trying to figure out how I feel about you,” I looked down at our hands. “I wasn’t quite sure then, but I am now.”

“And how do you feel about me?” His voice was merely a whisper.

“I love you John Watson.”


	3. Coming Home

                Having Sherlock with me in the morning was more than I could’ve asked for. I felt silly admitting what I really thought of him but the minute the last sentence left his lips I knew I was so wrong. I’d asked for him because I thought he wouldn’t be there and I couldn’t stand that. Last night his eyes had been red and his voice shaky. It was a Sherlock I’d never seen before and now, he loved me. Sherlock wasn’t looking at me while I tried to get myself to believe what he’d just said. I squeezed his hand lightly and eyes the color of the ocean met mine. They were my favorite color.

“I love you too Sherlock,” I said unsteadily. Those fascinating eyes lit up like a child’s on Christmas.

“Really?!” he didn’t believe me either. I just nodded and pulled him up by the hand. I knew it would be more romantic to kiss him but I just really needed a hug.

“Yes Sherlock, really,” I said and he hugged me back. “Be careful! I have another gun wound now you know!”

“I’m always careful with you,” Sherlock said before kissing me. His hands were on my neck and my own were still around his back, clinging to him like he was my whole reason to live. Well, he was my whole reason to live actually.

                I managed to scoot over in the hospital bed so Sherlock could slide in beside me. I felt bad that he’d slept in the plastic chair all night. I finally got a good look around and it was a typical hospital room. White everything with gross printed curtains and a lone outdated tv. It was still a lot nicer than anything my patients had gotten out in the field. Soon enough, Lestrade came in as well as Molly.

“I believe Donovan owes me some money,” Lestrade laughed and I was starting to feel a little more normal again. Molly just looked shocked.

“Oh, wow,” She said and I could tell Sherlock was looking right through her.

                The four of us had a nice little chat before I started getting sleepy again. I hated it when the nurses drugged me, mostly because I never particularly liked painkillers in the first place. Both Lestrade and Molly left, however the latter ran out in a hurry. They were soon replaced by the older and less favored, by myself at lease, Holmes. Mycroft. It was nice that he came to visit though.

“Good to see you back to normal Sherlock,” Mycroft smiled warmly at his brother, a rarity if I’ve ever seen one.

“Thank you Mycroft,” Sherlock even smiled back. I’d never seen them get along so well.

“What did I miss while I was out?” I asked. “You two are abnormally friendly.”

“We just found our brotherly love again,” Mycroft almost laughed… Almost.  “Something we haven’t had for a very long time.”

“No kidding,” I replied.

“Well, I’ve got to get back to work,” Mycroft checked his phone. “Not everyone’s world can stop spinning. Good to see you’re doing well John.”

“Same to you Mycroft,” I said and this time he really did laugh. As the door shut, I turned on Sherlock. “What happened last night?”

“You need rest, don’t make me call a nurse,” Sherlock warned.

“Please just tell me?” I begged. “If you do, I’ll go to sleep on my own.”

“Last night, I was very upset and Mycroft finally acted like a real brother,” Sherlock said simply.

“You mean you were crying and he took care of you?” I questioned.

“Something like that I suppose,” He sighed.

“You really cried?”

“I thought you were going to sleep,” Sherlock was absently tracing patterns on my arm with his fingertips.

“Sherlock,” I got his attention and kissed him. It was just a simple peck on the lips but it was something new, and it was nice. “Thank you.”

“For what? I got you shot in the chest,” He stared down at me. “Again.”

“For caring so much,” I told him. “I must really mean a lot to you if you cried. Because Sherlock Holmes doesn’t cry.”

“Only for you,” He kissed the side of my head. “Now will you please go to sleep?”

“Yes,” I smiled and settled down into his arms before falling asleep.

                The next few days in the hospital were almost unbearable. The only reason it was almost unbearable and not completely was Sherlock. He spoiled me and I had a feeling this was only the beginning. Mrs. Hudson was just as bad. The two of them back at Baker street would be a force to be reckoned with. Finally, they agreed to let me out of the hospital a little bit early and they insisted on wheeling me out to the taxi.

“The man’s a war veteran, don’t you think he can walk himself out?!” Sherlock huffed.

“Calm down dear,” Mrs. Hudson patted his shoulder while we finally made it out the front doors and they let me walk. “Oh John, aren’t you cold?”

“No, I’m fine Mrs. Hudson,” I lied but Sherlock knew. As soon as she was gone, he had wrapped me up in his own coat and helped me into the car. “Thank you.”

“You’re the one who got shot,” Sherlock told me. I leaned against his shoulder and watched London pass by.

                Back at the building Sherlock almost carried me up the stairs. Luckily, I managed to convince him not to and that I only needed a little help. I had to stop every few stairs to rest but eventually I made it back up to the flat. My own room was even further up the stairs but I didn’t even want to think of that right now.

“I’ll start on some tea for you dear,” Mrs. Hudson said as Sherlock helped me lie on the couch.


	4. Nightmares

                Getting John into the flat broke my heart a little bit. It was a feeling I had learned when he got shot. He was so much weaker and so much paler. Not like I was, he was the unhealthy kind of pale. He’d lost a considerable amount of weight and I didn’t even want to think about that as he took another minute to rest. I occupied my mind with where I would order food from tonight… Maybe I could just get things delivered from Tesco.

                Once John was in the flat and laying on the couch, I ran off to my own room to tidy up a bit. I wouldn’t make him climb more stairs after that debacle, he could have my room until he was well. I ordered Chinese for us while I was cleaning and came back out to see John asleep and still in my coat on the couch. I figured if he was going to sleep, I might as well move him to the bed.

                Carefully, I picked him up and walked him into my own room. I managed to get the coat off of him before putting him into my bed and tucking him in. I ran my fingers through his messy blonde hair and smoothed it as best I could. I kissed him on the forehead before turning off the lights and closing the door. Mrs. Hudson had seen him fall asleep and abandoned the tea before going back to her own flat. I sat by myself on the couch and finally let myself feel tired. It was only a second before I heard shouting coming from my room.

                I got up and ran towards the large, wooden door. I frantically turned the knob and sat on the edge of the bed beside John. He was thrashing around and a new spot of blood had blossomed on the front of his shirt. I held him down by his upper arms and tried to wake him. Nothing was working so I went to my last option. I kissed him. It was full of fear and it wasn’t like any other time I’d kissed him but it did what I needed. John bolted up, crying and all I could do was hold him.

“What was that nightmare about John?” I asked after he’d calmed down.

“I didn’t jump in front of you in time,” he sobbed and I hushed him gently.

“You will never need to,” I kissed his hair. “Nothing can kill me, I’m Sherlock Holmes! Don’t you worry about me, alright? It’s bad enough you’ve been shot, you don’t need this too.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if you died,” he admitted.

“You’ll never have to find out,” I promised as he settled down.

“Why am I in your bed?” he asked.

“I’m not letting you climb up and down the stairs just to go to bed every night!” I told him. “You’re sleeping here, I’ll take the couch.”

“No,” John grabbed my arm just as I was going to leave. “Stay here, I’ll sleep better with you around.”

“It must be so difficult to be normal,” I mused but got back into the large bed anyways.

“You should know now, shouldn’t you?” John joked with a mighty yawn.

“Go to sleep love,” I whispered and we both fell off to sleep.

                The next morning I woke before John but when he did finally wake, he was in immense pain. Without a word I got up and grabbed two of his painkillers and a glass of water from the kitchen and forced him to take them. He wasn’t a huge fan of medications but twenty minutes later, he was already feeling better.

“Pain is healthy you know,” he told me as I helped him change the bandage over the wound.

“Not that much pain,” I said, completely focused on not hurting him any more than I had to. It was difficult because the bandage had been soaked in blood and dried overnight.

“I don’t care,” John replied indignantly.

“You’re miserable to live with when you’re in pain John,” I almost had the old bandage detached now.

“Because that’s a nice thing to say to the man who loves you,” John managed to get the sentence out before I ripped the final piece of the bandage off. He grunted but didn’t complain.

“Well, you’re miserable when you’re in enough pain,” I corrected quietly and stared at the insidious looking bullet hole that almost killed my reason to live.

“I’m still not that happy,” John huffed.

“I know,” I sighed and looked up at him. “You hate being taken care of. Of course you’re unhappy.”

“That’s not true,” he deflated a little. “I like being taken care of by you.”

“I know,” I grinned and went back to cleaning him up.

                I gave John some time to be alone and shower and do whatever else he needed. I left the flat in search of something for our breakfast considering I know I’m a hideous cook and there was no way I was letting John do it. I managed to gather up some bagels and a pack of eggs because I could at least cook that. There was also some fruit, something that was never kept in the house, and a new box of tea. I busied myself with the eggs while I waited for John and he came out just as they were all done.

“Don’t worry, they’re just eggs,” I said without looking up from them and I heard John sigh in relief. “Is that any way to treat the man who is lovingly taking care of you?”

“I’m sorry Sherlock,” John smiled and sat down slowly in the living room.

“Good,” I kissed the side of his head and handed him a plate.

                The next few days were quiet. Mycroft and Lestrade visited often, mostly to check that John was still sane after being alone with me for so long. Molly even visited once but kept it short. Seeing us caused her pain, it was likely because she was in love with one of us. I was almost sure it was John, because it was easy to love him. We went on with our usual lives but while we were reading in the living room, we sat a little closer. While we were eating, he’d use me as a footrest and while we were sleeping, he always made me stay with him. 


	5. Extortion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's POV

                Spending a few days quietly in the flat was nice, especially when it was just Sherlock and I. Not much had changed and yet everything had changed. We still sat contentedly in the living room, reading from chairs across each other but the chairs had slowly been moving closer together. I kept him with me at night, because he fended off my nightmares. He still couldn’t make a meal to save his life and I could tell he was getting bored.

“Sherlock,” I lowered my paper. “We need to find another case.”

“You can’t be serious,” he said simply from the kitchen where he was poring over the microscope again.

“I am,” I defended and he looked over at me.

“You’re not well enough John,” his eyes were pleading with me to go his way but he also knew there wasn’t a very good chance of that. “I don’t want you to make your wound worse again.”

“I feel fine Sherlock,” I chided. “I can see you getting bored too. Just a little one? Something easy.”

“If you can find one,” he sighed and rubbed his eyes.

                With a smile, I got up to go over to my laptop. Sherlock beat me to it and I ended up in his lap while we scrolled through different cases. Nothing looked both interesting and safe enough for Sherlock’s liking so I figured we’d be there a while. I curled into him and a slender arm came to wrap around me. Eventually we found one that would interest my sociopath and would be safe enough for me. We kept on sitting there, not moving. Sherlock didn’t seem like the ‘cuddling’ kind of man but he really was.

“Shouldn’t we be starting on the case?” I asked.

“Let’s just sit here a while longer,” Sherlock replied easily and we didn’t end up moving from the chair all morning.

                For the hours we were curled up in the chair together, we really didn’t do much. We talked a little, kissed a little more and just generally enjoyed each other’s company. The case was simple, well simple to Sherlock, and we were done before dinner. We went out for dinner again because Sherlock was wise enough not to subject me to anything he had made except for simple things. He’d managed eggs and had now graduated to pancakes but I felt like it wasn’t going to go any farther than that. I’d made him play the violin for me later into the evening before I fell asleep. Once again, Sherlock carried me into his room and let me sleep on him.

                The week passed slowly and not much was happening in London. Sherlock was becoming increasingly bored and when he got too bored, it ended up becoming dangerous. Molly had finally come around to accept Sherlock and I and had decided to visit one afternoon. Sherlock was busy studying something in the kitchen but Molly and I were enjoying each other’s company over tea and the few biscuits Sherlock had left in the box.

“It must’ve been so interesting to be a doctor in the army,” Molly said.

“I guess you could call it that,” I smiled a little. I didn’t like to think about it but I was proud of the work I’d done there. “It was stressful, that’s for certain.”

“Sherlock is so well behaved,” She told me. “How’d you manage that?”

“He’s getting dangerously bored and when he gets there, he likes to mope,” I rolled my eyes.

“Maybe you two should take a vacation,” she suggested.

“No, I prefer London.”

“No, he prefers London,” I said at the same time as him and Molly just gaped. “I couldn’t get him on a plane anywhere for a few days of just rest and relaxation. He considers it wasted time.”

“All time not thinking is wasted time,” Sherlock’s voice came from the kitchen.

“I’m sure poor, injured John would benefit greatly from a vacation Sherlock,” Molly was trying the one card I never dared play. “Don’t you want him to have a nice recovery from the gun wound he got saving you?”

The flat was silent a while.

“I suppose if it would help John, we could go.”

“That’s so nice of you Sherlock,” Molly was smiling and looking between the two of us.

“What witchcraft are you working and can you teach me?” I whispered and we laughed a little.

“You need to learn how to use his guilt against him,” Molly and I giggled some more. Eventually it got late and Molly went home to her new boyfriend. It was nice to see how she’d moved on from mooning over Sherlock. We ordered in food and Sherlock sat beside me, handing me my laptop.

“You said you wanted a vacation so pick where we’re going,” Sherlock sighed. I leaned against him with a smile and took the computer from him. Many hours and just as many cups of tea later, Sherlock was falling asleep and I was running out of places to look at.

“Can’t we just stay somewhere close?” Sherlock was looking at me through half lidded eyes.

“I want to go somewhere nice,” I rubbed my head.

“Why not France or Italy or Belgium,” he kept on going on but I was already typing in France. 


	6. The Trip pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV

                We had plane tickets and hotel reservations for a week in France starting on Saturday and it was currently the night before. John still had to pack. He’d been doing loads better but dragging himself upstairs was still difficult. I helped him pull out his suitcase and sat on his bed whilst he put things into it.

“You don’t keep much up here,” I noted as I looked around.

“No, I do tend to spend most of my time downstairs with you,” he replied without looking back at me.

“Maybe you should just move into my room,” I suggested and he stood up a little straighter.

“Maybe I should,” He was thinking about it. I got up and wrapped my arms around his stomach lightly and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“Let me correct myself,” I felt him shiver. “I want you to move into my room.”

“Alright,” he stuttered.

“Perfect,” I grinned and kissed his cheek before letting him go. “I’ll start bringing things down then.” John put some things into a box for me to carry down and I was questioned by Mrs. Hudson on the stairs.

“What are you boys doing now?” She asked.

“John’s moving his things into the bedroom downstairs,” was all I offered her, knowing her to be clever enough to understand. Soon even she was helping us and John’s old room was bare.

“I hope you two have a good trip next week,” Mrs. Hudson smiled at the two of us before leaving.

Just as the door closed, John collapsed onto the couch and clutched at his chest. I forgot about his medication and ran to get it for him. I checked his bandages to see if he was bleeding, luckily he was not. I let John rest his head in my lap while we waited for his pain to subside. I did what I’d seen in the movies John had managed to get me to watch and started running my hands through his hair. Eventually, he calmed down and I heard him let out a heaving sigh.

“Thank you Sherlock,” he told me quietly.

“Anything for you John,” I smirked. “You should know that though. I’m letting you drag me all the way to Paris.”

“I know, I can’t believe it,” he laughed as hard as he dared. “I need to get Molly to teach me how to extort you.”

“Don’t you even dare,” I poked his stomach lightly. “I’ll just find new ways to become emotionless again.”

“Aw but I’ve grown so attached to your emotions,” he whined.

“So have I,” I sighed but smiled. In the last while, I’d grown so far away from Mycroft and how we had been brought up but I’d also never felt more alive. There would never be a time when I wasn’t a sociopath, that’s for sure, but at least emotions gave me more things to do when I got bored.

                The next morning, John dragged me out of bed at an unreasonable time and almost straight onto a plane. It was a very short trip to France from England but I still didn’t like it. I dragged all our luggage up to the room since John was still slightly iffy. He opened the door and after I dropped our bags, I fell straight onto the bed.

“For heaven’s sake Sherlock,” John sat beside me and I felt his hand rub my back. “That can’t have traumatized you so horribly.”

“Yes it could’ve,” I mumbled into the sheets.

“Let’s go on a nice walk,” He suggested. “Maybe we could grab some food, deduce some people for fun.”

“Alright,” I sighed and sat up.

“We’re here now, might as well enjoy it,” John smiled at me.

                We found a little French bistro and ordered. While we were waiting, I took some joy in deducing anyone who passed. There was a woman with nine small dogs, a house wife who stripped at night and a man who had a separate family oversees. There were many more, including our waiter who we made sure to make very uncomfortable. John was right, this trip was a good idea. For no matter how much I loved London, the change of scenery and people was nice. It was good to see John enjoying himself too. He didn’t like to let on when he was in pain but I could always tell. He would wince when he moved the wrong way or clear his throat when the pain came back and he needed more medication. My poor John had seemed a little more glum the last few days and now, he was completely back to his old self. My favorite version of John. He was happy, with wide eyes and he was marvelling at everything. The impressed  looks came back every time I deduced someone. I really missed that from him. At night, John wanted to go for a walk.

“Please Sherlock?” John had gone for the pleading approach.

“I don’t want you to strain yourself,” I replied from where I was laying on the couch.

“It’s just a little walk, I’ll be fine,” John scoffed.

“Fine but if you show even a smidge of discomfort we are coming straight back,” I sighed and got up.


	7. Out for a walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's POV

                So I managed to get Sherlock to go out for a walk with me. The only reason I’d picked Paris was so I could see it at night. I’d always imagined that all the lights would be beautiful. Sherlock donned his great big coat and his blue scarf before meeting me at the door. With a kiss to my cheek, he led me out of the room and onto the street. Sure enough, Paris looked like every sappy romance movie at night. The Eiffel tower was lit up, lights hung in the trees and people were everywhere. I was too busy staring at the beautiful city in front of me to really realize that Sherlock was staring at me and not the lights as we walked. Eventually we made it to one of the infamous bridges that was covered in locks from lovers who had been there, declaring their unending love for each other.  I leaned on the railing and looked down into the Seine below and imagined what the bottom would look like, covered in the keys from the locks.

“You know the French think that this is ridiculous,” Sherlock grinned a little.

“I think it’s nice,” I replied and knelt to read some of the locks fastened to the railings. They were all written on.

“The French think love is about freedom,” Sherlock helped me up, his strong hands supporting me easily.

“This can be about freedom too,” I said. “If you keep the keys then isn’t that freedom?”

“I suppose,” Sherlock nodded and pulled me into him. I wound my arms around him under his giant coat, more to warm myself. I laid my head on his chest and breathed in his smell. “We need to go back.”

“Why? I like it out here,” I pouted.

“Because your chest is bothering you and you know what I said,” Sherlock pointed out. Damn, he was good. I sighed heavily and pulled away from him.

“Alright,” I said and Sherlock took my hand as we walked back. It was nice. On the way back, there was a store being robbed. “Sherlock we have to do something.”

“You’ve already been shot John, I’m not doing something that stupid again,” he whispered and pulled me into the alley. “Those men have no remorse and they will shoot us both. I can’t do that to you again John, I can’t be the reason you get hurt.”

“I feel fine,” I said defiantly.

“No you don’t now will you please leave this to the police?” Sherlock was pleading with me. I could see his eyes glistening in the light of the streetlamp. I softened a little, seeing Sherlock upset. I wiped at the tears with my thumb before they could fall and left my hand on his face.

“Alright,” I forced myself to say. “I’ll leave this one.” It was so hard to say but I did it because of how much I loved Sherlock and I knew he’d never forgive me if I went after the men robbing the shop.

“Thank you,” Sherlock sighed, heavily relieved and pulled me into a hug. His head dropped to my shoulder and I could feel Sherlock stop shaking slowly.

                My poor man took a few minutes to compose himself. In the light of the lamps, I could see the toll the last while had taken on the detective. His skin was pulled tightly over his bones everywhere, he was almost a skeleton. His eyes were red from the upset he’d just come off of and there had never been a time where I just wanted to fall down and hug the poor man. It was only now that I realised that Sherlock did the best he could with what he had. All he truly had was his mind and that made it impossible for him to be around normal humans. I used to think I was normal, but then Sherlock swept in and dragged me to 221B and I couldn’t believe how quickly I fell in love with the sociopath.

I was just as far from normal now as he was. Some days I used to feel like Molly, like Sherlock couldn’t even see me for what I really wanted him to. I was so wrong though. Sherlock saw me more clearly than anybody else, and he still loved me. I felt a smidge bad that I wasn’t so open about it. I didn’t tell him that I loved him nearly enough. We walked back a different way to the hotel and by the time we were back my chest actually did hurt. I was changing the bandage in the bathroom when two slim arms wrapped around my stomach.

“I’m sorry about this evening,” He looked at me in the mirror with big eyes. They were no longer red and swollen but I could see the sadness in them.

“It’s alright Sherlock,” I smiled a little. “It meant a lot that you were trying to keep me safe.”

“Well I don’t know what I’d do without you,” He shrugged lightly and pulled me tighter.

“Hopefully nothing stupid,” I laughed a little. “Because for a man of such wit, you can be quite dim from time to time.”

“Well I’m mildly offended,” Sherlock chuckled and kissed my neck. “Come on now, you need sleep.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” I leaned back into him once my bandage was fixed.

“Let’s go doctor,” Sherlock had taken to calling me that.

“I’m going, I’m going,” I replied as he dragged me into the bedroom.

                I fell asleep quickly next to Sherlock. There was something comforting about being able to feel him breathe and hear his heartbeat. It reminded me that this was all very real, that he was here and that he actually loved me. I knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t sleep and accepted that. When he was around, I never had nightmares but that night he must’ve left. I had a horrible one that Sherlock had gotten tortured and all I could do was watch. I was woken by being frantically shaken by a frightened Sherlock. I didn’t say anything but I crushed him in a hug and cried as the sun came up. He didn’t ask questions, he didn’t try and leave. He just whispered that he was there and that he loved me and that’s more than I ever could’ve asked of him.


	8. The Lock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV

                Trying to detangle myself from John in the morning was a bloody nightmare. Most days I would’ve gladly laid in bed, hardly being able to tell which limbs belonged to each one of us but I had a plan and I needed to go get things. I managed to free myself and got dressed. At the foot of the bed, I stared at John, trying to convince myself to leave. Realistically, he’d be fine for a while on his own but my mind just kept on screaming that he wouldn’t. I forced myself out of the hotel and down to a bakery to get some breakfast for John. I stopped off at a small convenience store while I was out as well and got back to the room in only twenty minutes. My heart stopped when I opened the door though, because John was screaming.

                I dropped the bags on the couch and ran to the bedroom. There were no signs of a break in or that anyone else had been in here. I looked closer at John to see his bandage starting to redden and nothing on him seemed to be harmed. He was still asleep, meaning only one thing. I shook him, gently at first, but he only woke when I shook him harder. His eyes fluttered open and focused on me before he tackled me into a hug.

“Shhh John, it’ll be okay,” I rubbed his back. “I’m right here.”

                I kept on that until he stopped crying. I knew he wouldn’t want me asking what upset him or what I could do to help. Well, I didn’t need to ask what he needed from me anyways. Once he had calmed down and loosened his grip on me, I picked him up and carried him to the kitchen. I started a pot of water and got the things I’d bought for breakfast and laid them on the counter for him. I sat with John as we waited for the water to boil in silence. Once it was done, I fixed him a cup and we sat at the table, eating.

“Thank you Sherlock,” John said quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t want to know what I’d do without you,” I smirked a little but thought about it. It wasn’t really something to joke about but it was too late now.

“Hopefully not find someone else,” John laughed a little.

“Not quite what I was thinking of,” I leaned against the sink.

“Oh it can’t be that bad Sherlock,” John said and looked at me with a serious face.

“Well, I mean,” I put my hands under my chin. “I could get in a lot of trouble.”

“Is that why you were scared when Lestrade searched the flat for drugs?” He raised an eyebrow.

“You need to change your bandage,” I pointed out and it worked… Or so I thought.

“So what would they have found?” he asked as he fixed new gauze over the wound.

“Nothing,” I scoffed. “Do you honestly think with a mind like mine, I would ever hide things that important where someone as dim as Anderson could find them?”

“Sherlock,” John scolded.

“You won’t find it either,” I told him with a small smirk.

“Just tell me what you’re keeping in _our_ flat,” John pleaded with me.

“Very dangerous drugs,” I sighed. “If you come across any, don’t you even dare touch them.”

“Which drugs Sherlock?” John crossed his arms. He was getting mad at me.

“Heroin, cocaine, I can’t even remember anymore,” I pinched the bridge of my nose and pressed my eyes closed.

“Oh Sherlock,” John sounded disappointed. Great.

“I know.”

“You don’t anymore though, do you?” I looked at John’s face. He just looked concerned.

“Well no,” I replied honestly.

“Then why are we still wasting time on this?” He smiled a little.

“Bless your soul John Watson,” I swept him up in a hug.

“No problem Sherlock,” He hugged me back tightly and pulled back just enough to kiss me gently on the lips.

                John and I went for another walk that night, which is exactly what I was hoping he’d request. We walked through the streets leisurely and soon came across another bridge, covered in locks. John knelt, reading some of them before standing back up and leaning against the railing and sighing. I was holding the little lock and keys I’d bought that morning nervously and it took John a while to notice my silence.

“What’s wrong Sherlock?” He asked me and without saying a word, most for the fact that I knew I would say the wrong thing, I dropped the lock in the doctor’s hands. I would never be as good with normal human sentiments as John. Sometimes I don’t even know why he puts up with me anymore.

“I got it this morning while you were asleep,” I offered, seeing the question on his face before he could even ask it. Before I knew it, John had all but jumped on me. His arms were wrapped tightly around my neck.

“It’s perfect Sherlock,” He told me and pulled back with a huge smile. I leant down and kissed him softly before he opened the lock and chose a place to put it. “This is the best surprise ever.”

“It was nothing, really,” I chuckled. “I got quite a laugh out of the woman at the counter when I bought it. She looked distraught when she saw what I was buying, almost as if she fancied me.”

“Of course she fancied you,” John told me. “You’re handsome and smart and clever. Women all over the place fancy you, you just never see it.”

“Oh hardly,” I brushed it off. “You’re all those things and more. Plus you’re the lovable one.”

“You’re lovable too,” he jabbed and kissed me on the cheek, albeit he had to stretch up a bit to reach.


End file.
